


Garden Variety

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: Very slightly left of canon, a sort of almost flower shop AU (I couldn't help myself). It's leaning into full on Slibbs but not quite there yet...   "Where the hell are you? You bail on Bishop and then disappear?" // "Did you even consider asking Leon where I went?"





	Garden Variety

"Jacqueline?" The voice on the other end had a very slight accent, just barely audible over the cell connection. "Not sure I have the right number?"

She'd answered her phone as though she had been in her office, of course, '_Special Agent Sloane_' and all…It had been a fluke that she'd answered at all, really. More out of curiosity…

Jack just shrugged at Ellie across the table, noting the way the younger woman picked at what was left of her salad. "This is Jack Sloane."

"Thank Christ," the voice slanted with a sigh, "this is Rena. Your florist? From the shop on seventh?"

_Garden Variety_, that was the name. Its punny silliness had been the thing to draw her attention as she'd been researching florists. Their design work had kept her going back. She vaguely remembered it being owned by sisters and one of them had been extraordinarily sweet, throwing in some extra hydrangea when she had been buying loose flowers for her apartment. They'd talked for quite awhile and she'd fondly remembered it, always going back to the same shop.

"Right! How are you?" she asked, dropping a couple unwanted cherry tomatoes into Bishop's salad.

"_Tragic_." The Latina accent went thicker on the second syllable of the word, drawing it out with also a little bit of desperation. "I was wondering if you were serious about helping me out. One of my designers has the flu and the other one _literally_ just broke her ankle."

"Mother's Day is this weekend."

"I'm well aware," the florist answered quickly. "Any chance I could steal you from your real life tonight?"

"I could probably even be there earlier. We just wrapped a case and I'm only three blocks away."

"I will absolutely make it worth your time," Rena assured, voice flush with very obvious hope.

Jack just grinned, near giddy at the prospect of a full cooler of flowers. "I'll see you in awhile."

***

God, every shop tended to smell the same to her. Wet minerals, greens, water, ozone and that strong floral spike of a scent that went straight to her heart by way of her sinuses.

She leaned in from around the desk where a college aged girl was on their phone, taking an order. "You guys smell delicious back here."

"Ah! You're a freakin' angel!" The words came at her brightly from the back. "Watch your step."

She quickly side-stepped the buckets that were to the right of the design area, thankful that she'd already changed into her workout sneakers before even walking the few blocks.

The entire floor was littered with plant matter, leaves and stems, wet and slick petals, damaged or unusable florettes. The biggest pile was under Rena's feet, creating an expanding green moat around her as she worked.

"Your timing couldn't have been better, honestly. I'm free for the rest of the day." She caught the relieved hug the other woman gave her with a breathy laugh of surprise, enjoying the friendliness. She still hadn't made tons of friends that weren't work related and it was nice to be in a different environment with far different people. Jack shifted her bag farther up her shoulder and looked around. "How far behind are you?"

Most of the floor to the right had massed up with buckets, some with opening flowers and some empty. Some half full with water or reserve tags and nothing else. A very large and broad shouldered man was heading into the walk-in cooler that took up the entire back of the shop area and she just grinned, excited to see what they had.

"A wedding, two funerals, and an ass-load of holiday orders. How much training have you got design-wise?

"My aunt owned a shop. It put me through undergrad." Jack lifted her bag slightly, nodding toward it. "Anywhere I can stow this?"

Rena nodded and gave her a short run down of where everything was, where everything went, all the while being flanked by a younger but equally pretty employee. One that seemed extraordinarily comfortable at the owner's elbow.

"Front left of the walk-in is the loading zone, all slips in the basket and Lucia will handle them."

"Hello, here," the younger one said softly, head tipping in perusal.

"Luli, this is Jack," the shop owner said, waving between them. "You want coffee? Luli is gonna make a Beans run shortly."

"_Please_. Sugar, sugar, some coffee then sugar." She laughed even as she finished saying it, a blush warming her cheeks as Lucia lifted an eyebrow in her direction.

"Then how have you still got that _fantastic_ ass?"

"She's an acquired taste but she's delightful, I swear." Rena told her and Jack took a moment to steal a nearby pen and hook her hair up with it, spiking it through the bun to keep it up. "Y'know, when she isn't _sexually harassing_ the help."

"Here, sweetie," Lucia lifted an apron by its neck strap as she ignored her sister, dangling it toward her with a grin. Jack took it with a bright smile and rolled her eyes when the younger woman very obviously gave her another once over, top to bottom.

Well, she was about as subtle as a damn brick to the head.

Still, it felt nice to be noticed…. It was about time someone appreciated the time she put into keeping a 'fantastic' ass. The one person she wanted to notice was damn blind to it - _despite_ stealing her glasses whenever he felt like it.

"Thank you," she laughed and hooked the apron over her head, drawing the strings back to tie it loosely over her linen skirt and the tank top she'd been wearing under silk.

Luli just grinned and winked, "Sink or swim, mi querida."

***

Four rapid fire missed calls was sort of excessive… or possibly tragic. And especially when it was Gibbs who had called her.

Though, not once had he left a message so she was assuming it really was his less-than-charming impatience that had him calling so often. But stacked calls always made her nervous and so when she had finally checked her cell, a slice of pizza in the other hand, she got a lump of concern balled in her throat. She dialed him back near instantly, barely swallowing the first bite of her dinner.

"About damn time, Sloane."

"What happened?" Jack asked quickly, nipping right into how gruffly he answered. She started to set the pizza back to the paper plate, giving Lucia an appreciative smile as a bottle of water was set to the counter beside it. "Are you okay?"

"Where the hell are you? You bail on Bishop and then disappear? You don't even - "

"Did you even _consider_ asking Leon where I went?" The retort came sharply off her before she had the chance to bite it back, dropping the food in annoyance.

"He'd tell me it was none of my business."

"It _isn't_ any of your business, Gibbs," Jack slapped back, feeling her voice rise and hearing Lucia mutter something in Spanish behind her.

"Got worried is all. Called to see if you wanted dinner." His pause was long and verging on awkward but she wasn't about to save him from it, not this time. This was something she needed him to vocalize - or to at least try. "Just not like you to not answer me, Jack."

"I'm fine," she whispered gently, realizing his reactions were far from logical and entirely emotional. She was a little stunned by that, surprised by it. He wasn't prone to hysterics, most certainly not in regards to _her_. Usually it was the other damn way around.

She wasn't the sort of woman who enjoyed a man getting possessive - she was far too independent. But something in the center of her lungs went warm as she licked pizza sauce off her green-stained thumb and sighed, realizing that he _was_ being a little possessive.

And she _did_ sorta like it. A little.

No, rather… she liked all that it _implied_.

"Wanna come give me a ride home tonight? I let Ellie take my car."

Sure, there was plenty of public transportation and she was perfectly secure navigating the city at night. She really just wanted a reason to be with him and he didn't at all seem opposed to that… She would take his forms of affection wherever she could get them and a ride home seemed innocuous enough.

"Yeah, of course. Where the hell are you?"

A true smile went over her lips and she let the sound of it into her voice, "In a flower shop. Two hundred block of seventh."

"You really are the strangest woman, Jack." He didn't sound surprised by it, though. Not surprised nor in any way put off, especially not when he quickly followed up with "What time?"

"Not sure. Probably late-ish. Can I call you?"

"Make sure you do."

***

It had been a little later than he had expected when she had finally called, her voice sounding tired at around nine fifteen. It had also taken him longer to get across downtown than he would have liked, especially knowing she was waiting on the other side.

He hadn't been prepared for the image she had made, though, not at all. Sure, she'd said she had been at a flower shop but watching her walk out the door of it as he headed her way, still haloed by its gilded and warm yellow light…

The bell on the door serenaded the way she stepped out onto the sidewalk, her bag slung up high on her shoulder and holding an armload of flowers amassed in brown paper. Even in night's darkness the colors of the flowers glowed her up, amping up her own innate brightness.

He suddenly felt very much like they were two completely different people, his hands dropping loose to his sides as she smiled sleepily at him, her knotted up hair looking messy but sweet. It felt like another world (one that was private and warm and… _domestic_) had opened up between them, slowly flooding outward as she stepped closer.

In another world this would have been far more normal, more accepted, more real.

"You made pretty good time. I didn't expect you this soon."

In another world he could just tell her "You look amazing."

Well… _Shit_.

She stopped walking for a moment, studying him hard and as though he were some sort of imposter, dressed as Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He swallowed hard under the scrutiny but held his ground too, feet planted evenly apart, back straight, eyes on hers as she blinked.

He saw the moment when she accepted the reality that he had spoken without thinking because her eyelashes dipped low and she seemed to shake the compliment away softly. The smile she put on was small but perfectly pleased and he had to bite his jaw tight against matching it.

"It's the flowers," she snorted, her face weary but amused and flushing pink in the hazed sidewalk light. "They make everything look good."

A heavy sigh came off him before he could stop it. "It's not the flowers, Jack."

"The girls were in a jam and I worked in a shop when I was in college, so…" She shrugged it off as though it was nothing, just an everyday thing. But he saw the shift in her thoughts as she looked him over, head angling so softly that her hair just lazily slid off her shoulder. "You were really worried, huh?"

"I know it's not really my business."

"No," Jack agreed, dark eyes on him and her teeth raking her bottom lip. "Could be, though. If you weren't such a stubborn jackass."

He felt his whole body instinctively sway toward her but shrugged instead of leaning into it, a last second catch as he watched her watch him. Gibbs let honesty fill his face, knowing that she was scrutinizing every emotion that leaked off his body language. She was far too smart and readily attuned to his behavior, not that he would lie to her anyhow.

She could read him better than his own team, better than Leon, better than he had expected she would.

His broad shoulders went loose, hands dropped and keys dangling from his fingers. "Leopards and spots, Jack."

And he saw her flinch, he saw it hit dead center of her emotional range…

"You change them for other people," she snapped back, her weariness suddenly very obvious in how bitter her tone had gone. "You break your rules for your kids. Why not me?"

Why _not_ her? So many goddamn reasons. But most all of them having to do with upholding her safety and sanity (and his fear).

"How - "

"Tim worries," she shrugged with chagrin, face falling into guilt at the admission. "He gets frustrated. You treat him like a leader but he doesn't think you trust in him to be an equal."

_Tim worries… he doesn't think you trust him..._

Timothy McGee, the family fixer, at it again. "He told you about Rule Ten?"

"You burn up a rule for your daughter but not for me? I mean, I get it but… it's disappointing." There was a brittle sadness on her face that showed her age despite makeup and good lighting. It reminded him that he was an expert at many things but _wasting_ time was lately at the top of the list. And he _knew_ it.

He could see the flux of emotions that took brutal hold of her after she shakily voiced what had obviously been on her mind. He could see her anger, her frustration and her sadness - even the slide she made into acceptance as her jaw dipped. She blinked slowly, turning her head downward so that she could use the flowers to avoid him.

She was far too close to crying (her tears were already _right there_) and he could feel his skin tighten and flash hot at the prospect.

The idea that he hurt her so easily… "I'm tryin' here, Jack."

"You are," she whispered forced agreement as she nodded, still looking over the colorful bounty in her arms but not yet able to lift her eyes to his. "That's why I got you flowers. Well, _us_. I can't be trusted around dahlias."

He matched the self deprecating laugh she gave up as she lifted her head and his hand instantly betrayed him, catching her jaw and forcing her to hold her head up. "You got _me_ flowers?"

"Everyone deserves flowers," she whispered, the hush of her voice pulling him closer despite reason.

He'd stopped being able to fight the pull of her months before. He'd started trying to just mitigate how close he got instead. Near enough to smell her perfume, feel the silk of her hair or catch the wave of heat she made as she moved by… far enough to still somehow keep his own damn hands to himself.

Which led him to just saying "Let's take 'em home, then."

That same bitter look got caught on her features, darkening her face as they stood still on the slow street. "I'm tired, Gibbs. I'll just - "

"You've got dinner waitin' for you at my place. Just crash there." He nodded toward the truck, unconsciously jingling the keys up and into his fist. He forced himself to breathe as he waited her out, keeping his face as passive as he could. "I'll take you by your apartment in the morning."

"You still made me dinner?" she followed along with him, stepping in behind him as he aimed them for the passenger side of the truck.

"Says the woman who just got me flowers?" he asked over his shoulder, turning back around when he reached the vehicle and leaning back above the front wheel well.

She shrugged in response, softness finally finding her face again. "Flower shops always make me sentimental. I get homesick."

"Then lemme take you home, Sloane."

She'd gone a little weaker at the way he had said it and he'd known it, seen it, watched it happen (and with pleasure). It was part of what drew him constantly closer, snared him up and into her smile - she always so beautifully let him know when he had pleased her. Those deep and dark expressive eyes of hers told stories on her emotions, gave up her secrets just a fraction of a second before her sly mouth did.

Even when her brow arched and she smiled small at the way he tugged the truck door open for her. "I _am_ trying."

"I know." She paused in saying it, weighting the words with a nod, meeting his eyes. Her smile was true, sincere as she blinked slowly. "I _know_, Gibbs."

She leaned up into the truck with that smile and he reveled in the quiet domesticity of closing the door behind her, the unconscious knock of the side of his fist against the door. He could feel her watch him around the front and before he even had the driver's door entirely open she was grinning and leaned toward his seat. "You don't have a single vase in that house, do you?"

"Got some mason jars." He could see her shudder from across the truck and he laughed when she simply rolled her eyes and waved him off. "What's wrong with jars?"

"Just drive," she murmured after he'd climbed in, bending her face into the scent of the flowers rather than argue and in that moment he felt more intimately close to her than he had in days. "Freakin' _mason jars_."

He wasn't sure if she was talking to him or the flowers but by the affection rife in her tone as he started the truck… well, he figured it was the latter.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured that, as a florist, I'd better get out in front of this particular AU trope because everyone deserves flowers. Everyone.


End file.
